أَتُرَاهَا لِكَثْرَةِ الْعُشَّاقِ - المتنبي

أَتُرَاهَا لِكَثْرَةِ الْعُشَّاقِ تَحْسَبُ الدَّمْعَ خِلْقَةً فِي الْمَآقِي — أبو الطيب المتنبي "Does She, From So Many Lovers, Think Tears Are Simply How Eyes Are Made?" — Al-Mutanabbi قصيدة في الشوق والنُّحول والسهر. يعجب المتنبي من محبوبةٍ رأت من الدموع ما رأت حتى حسبت الدمع خِلقةً في العيون، لا أثراً للهوى؛ ثم يصف ما بلغ به الضنى حتى لو زارته لحال النحول بينه وبين العناق. A poem of longing, wasting and sleeplessness. Al-Mutanabbi wonders at a beloved who has seen so much weeping that she takes tears to be simply part of how eyes are made, rather than the mark of love — then describes a body so wasted by longing that even an embrace has become impossible. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ القصيدة أَتُرَاهَا لِكَثْرَةِ الْعُشَّاقِ تَحْسَبُ الدَّمْعَ خِلْقَةً فِي الْمَآقِي كَيْفَ تَرْثِي الَّتِي تَرَى كُلَّ جَفْنٍ رَآهَا غَيْرَ جَفْنِهَا غَيْرَ رَاقِي أَنْتِ مِنَّا فَتَنْتِ نَفْسَكِ لَكِنْ عُوفِيتِ مِنْ ضَنًى وَاشْتِيَاقِ حُلْتِ دُونَ الْمَزَارِ فَالْيَوْمَ لَوْ زُرْ تِ لَحَالَ النُّحُولُ دُونَ الْعِنَاقِ إِنَّ لَحْظًا أَدَمْتِهِ وَأَدَمْنَا كَانَ عَمْدًا لَنَا وَحَتْفَ اتِّفَاقِ لَوْ عَدَا عَنْكِ غَيْرَ هَجْرِكِ بُعْدٌ لَأَرَارَ الرَّسِيمُ مُخَّ الْمَنَاقِي وَلَسِرْنَا وَلَوْ وَصَلْنَا عَلَيْهَا مِثْلَ أَنْفَاسِنَا عَلَى الْأَرْمَاقِ مَا بِنَا مِنْ هَوَى الْعُيُونِ اللَّوَاتِي لَوْنُ أَشْفَارِهِنَّ لَوْنُ الْحِدَاقِ قَصَّرَتْ مُدَّةَ اللَّيَالِي الْمَوَاضِي فَأَطَالَتْ بِهَا اللَّيَالِي الْبَوَاقِي كَاثَرَتْ نَائِلَ الْأَمِيرِ مِنَ الْمَالِ بِمَا نَوَّلَتْ مِنَ الْإِيرَاقِ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ TRANSLATION Does she, from the sheer number of her lovers, take tears to be simply how eyes are made? How should she pity, who sees every eyelid that has looked on her left sleepless but her own? You are one of us — you enchanted your own self, yet you were spared the wasting and the longing. You barred the way to visiting; and now, were you to come, this thinness would stand between us and any embrace. That glance you drew blood with, and we drew blood with, was deliberate on our part, and by chance our death. Had any distance but your parting come upon you, the hard trot would have worn the marrow from the she-camels. And still we would ride, though we arrived upon them as our own breath arrives at the last gasp. What is in us comes from love of those eyes whose lashes are the very colour of their pupils. They made the nights already past too short, and by that made the nights remaining long. She outgave the prince's gift of money by what she gave of sleeplessness. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ عن «قصيد» قناة تُحيي عيون الشعر العربي القديم بألحان وصور جديدة. كل حلقة: قصيدة واحدة، لحن واحد، ولوحات تُروى بها. ABOUT QASEED A channel that brings the classical Arabic poems back to life with new music and new imagery. Each episode: one poem, one melody, and paintings to carry it. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ الشِّعر: أبو الطيب المتنبي (٩١٥–٩٦٥م) — ملكية عامة اللحن والغناء والصورة: من إنتاج القناة بأدوات ذكاء اصطناعي بتوجيه فني كامل Poem: Abu al-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi (915–965 CE) — public domain Music, vocals and visuals: produced for this channel using AI tools under full artistic direction. #المتنبي #شعر_عربي #قصيد